The Brandon's Sense and Sensibility
by Ruth06
Summary: Do Colonel Christopher Brandon and Marianne make a happily married couple? R&R please 2nd chapter the best!
1. A new start

The sun shone brightly through tiny, dusty windowpanes casting light on an old empty vase. The glass, chipped and scratched, reflected the sun blinding its observer. Shielding her eyes from the harsh light Marianne looked about the room. She examined its rough floorboards and pallid walls and it reminded her of how cold and empty Barton Cottage had once seemed, the first night the Dashwood's had descended upon it.

Stepping further into the light she moved towards the window. Each little pane offered her a view of a wild and seemingly untameable garden. A distant look passed her face and she half smiled to herself as she recalled a memory filled with childish giggles, flying bonnets, disapproving looks and impertinence.

She was brought sharply back to the present with the sound of metal studs on the parlour floor. She could hear the Betsey busying herself within the back kitchen. No doubt worrying about the all consuming time it would take to eliminate the seven-and-twenty years of dust the house had seemed to accumulate since abandonment by its last inhibitors. The studs echoed throughout the empty house as the owner made his way down the hall, stopping periodically. The sound became heavier. She tensed. It had grown darker. Billowing clouds eclipsed the sun. Stepping back from the window she composed herself. Feeling flustered.

She felt his presence, yet she need not have been so nervous. 'Mrs Brandon' came the gentle exclamation. Exerting a sign of relief she turned and almost fell into his welcoming arms. 'Christoper' she gasped. She feared so terribly that she would lose the overwhelming compassionate she felt towards him and it was this surge of feeling that propelled her towards his arms.

He had cared for her and been near to her even when it was not his duty. For this she owed him her life. It was true she did not believe she felt true passion towards him, however she knew from bitter experience that passion could mask a falsehood of character. She had come to realise that through Willoughby. Her dearest Willoughby.

'You look flustered my darling.' He said as he observed her countenance. He was not so presumptuous to think she was overcome with ardour at his mere presence. 'You are not feverous?' a look of fear flickered in his eyes.

'No. Do not fear for my health. I am quite well.' She pulled away from him and turned to face the window again. 'It is leaving Mama and Margaret in the clutches of Mrs Jennings that you should fear, my dear Brandon.' It was a small lie. A 'necessity' as Mama would say in order to keep civility. He was her keeper now and though she knew she should devote herself wholly to him, she could not help her fanciful thoughts.

He sensed her sudden coldness as she withdrew from his arms. He tried to engage her thoughts elsewhere, least ways then she could stop fretting over Mrs Dashwood and Miss Margaret. 'Thomas will be bringing the furniture tomorrow from town, along with your piano.' He came behind her and touched her shoulder. At the hearing of her beloved instrument she relax. 'And tomorrow, we shall travel to town and you may chose material to frame this beautiful window.'

'Colour would certainly liven up this room. This house.' She responded.

They both gazed beyond the window and absent minded he added, 'such a feral yet enchanting garden'

The clouds that had cast a shadow over the garden and the house disappeared and the sun gleamed, as though it had never been disturbed. A glimmer of light from the corner of the room caught the Christopher's eye. 'Flowers? Mrs Brandon' the Christoper asked quizzically. 'Flowers?' she replied. He glanced at the vase and her eyes followed his gaze. 'There are none Colonel Brandon. You are surly indulging in a fantasy. It is but trickery of the light and heat. You are hot, are you not?' She gave him a concerned look, yet he just smiled bemused with himself. It was true he felt stuffy and flustered in his rather old-fashioned starch clothing.

However she had misunderstood. Taking her hand he lead her into the hallway. Calling Betsey from the kitchen he ordered her to clean the vase and fill it with water. He took her bonnet of the bottom stair where it had been carelessly left by his new wife. Positioning it on her head he lightly tied the duck egg blue ribbon that fell by her cheeks.

Then taking her hand he guided her outside, again he repeated 'Flowers? Mrs Brandon'.

Her face became enlightened, 'Flowers, indeed Colonel Brandon' she giggled.

The angular precision of the wooden window frame, holding a multitude of delicate transparent squares. Created, from a distance, eight small frames of the Colonel and Marianne seemingly blissful and jovial.

Betsey moved across the room to fetch the dusty old vase that needed to be cleaned. As she passed the window she saw the Master and Mistress almost wadding through the undergrowth that grew in front of the house. She noted how happy they appeared and wished she could one day find herself in their position.

Marianne grasped a bunch of wild heather and she giggled as the Colonel attempted to reach a wild rose that stood beyond a mass of bramble bushes. Betsey noted that the Colonel had too lightly tied the ribbon on Misses bonnet and now the duck egg blue ribbon was being whipped around her face by a light wind.


	2. A stranger

The Colonel and Marianne travelled to town on a warm, mid-summer morning. The weather was fine and air humid, so with Marianne's persistence they made the journey in the open top carriage. The breeze, she said, would relieve the heat-induced migraine she had been suffering. However, the dry weather of recent weeks had created a cracked, sandy track for the horses to be drawn along. Therefore by the time they had made the long ride into town, dust had been kicked up into there sitting by the animals and Marianne found her shell-pink skirts were filthy.

'Oh Dear Christopher, What shall people think of Mrs Brandon who it seems cannot even wash her own skirts?' Marianne asked light-heartedly.

'They will, I am in no doubt, say you have the worst house keeper and washer in the whole of Delaford.' He replied. 'Or that I have the laziest wife in the County, for she cannot be bothered to change her clothing ' they looked at one another grinning.

Teasingly she replied, 'And if they do suggest such a thing my Lord, I shall say that I have married the most penny-pinching man in the County, who, as it appears, locks away my clothes and as consequence I am reduced to wearing all but one garment for weeks on end, to save on the washing.'

'Wicked girl' he replied yet he laughed for he knew she would never suggest such a thing. 'In any case, Marianne, I am sure I can find a good dozen of women in a less fortunate position than you my dear, in respect to the state of there skirts, especially on such a desiccated day'

She laugh, 'Indeed, sir I am sure you could.' The horses where gently drawn to a halt. Grasping the Colonel's hand Marianne stepped down from he carriage. 'What businesses have you too attend today?' she asked as they began to walk along the side walk.

'Trivial affairs.' He answered, 'I need to inquire about the fallow fields to the east of the estate and about the repair work to the cottages. I shall be seeing our Mr Ferrers this afternoon.' Her face lit up, for she knew she would no doubt she him also. 'And of dearest Elinor, have we no more news? Was she well yesterday?'

Indeed her sister was not well, yet it was mostly self-induced by worry. With child, she had felt early pains. The Colonel had sent for the doctor who ordered total bedrest for the sake of her child's health and her own. Therefore she had been confined to her bedchamber for almost three weeks now and had grown sick herself through lack of communication with the outer world. 'She has grown sick through total confinement and lack of fresh air. She views her bed chamber as a prison.' She so longed for her sister look well again. 'That silly housekeeper will not even open the windows, of her room, for fear of letting in the devil. She needs clean, fresh air and then she shall feel much more recovered, I am sure of it'

In her tone of voice he sensed his wife's determination and he imagined she had already had a conflict of words with that 'silly housekeeper', as she put it. 'She is weak my darling, she must rest. When the child is here al will be well again.' She did not answer, merely looked away and sighed and he sensed her frustration. He gripped her arm where he held it and gently squeezed.

Looking back into his eyes, she knew he had meant well in what he had said, yet some how it had only vexed her more. In order to suppress the anger and dissatisfaction she felt with his answer, for she knew he meant well, she changed the subject. 'Are you to accompany me into Mrs Tattler's?' she inquired, with a little irritation in her voice.

'Yes, if you so wish.' They were silent a moment. 'I do not understand how one women can be so indecisive in her choice of fabric for window drapes.'

'They have never had the right shade of green, and I should like beautiful curtains to frame a beautiful view.' She was about to go on when they passed Mr and Mrs Palmer.

'Dear Mr Palmer, look who it is! Did we not expect to see you soon after the wedding, Mr and Mrs Brandon? Did we not Mr Palmer?' came Charlotte Palmer's girlish voice.

'Indeed, we did not. Are you…' began Mr Palmer, at which point Charlotte interjected. '…well? Of course they are! In the first blooms of love. Why dear look how Miss Marianne blushes. A surly sign of good health which can only be brought about by a good marriage.' The Colonel tried to speak but Mrs Palmer had become much excited. 'Oh dear me,' she laughed. The sight of young boy who was jumping and seemingly wrestling in sand by the sidewalk stopped her. 'John. John!' she hurried over to where he played. Mr Palmer following slightly exclaiming his outrage over the boy's behaviour.

She reappeared at their side, the boy grasped in one hand. 'This is John, our son, Mrs Brandon, you do remember him from when he was a baby?' Marianne merely moved her head in acknowledgement. 'We have two girls, also. Twins! Imagine our surprise when they arrived Mrs Brandon.' Then she turned to the Colonel, 'however they are staying with my mother, whilst we are here on business. Well I say we, I mean Mr Palmer' she chuckled. 'What would I have with business.'

'Well then,' she clasped her hands, still holding the boy and dragging him up of the ground. 'I dare say it should not be long before you hear the patter of little feet. That is, the Colonel should not be too old as of yet and you are young' At which point Mr Palmer interjected 'Women! Learn to hold your tongue.' However it had seemingly little effect and Charlotte merely ignored the remark and changed the subject. Yet Marianne blushed profoundly and she felt Robert tighten his grip upon her arm and she could almost feel the heat exude from his face.

Again Mr Palmer shouted and this time she silenced. He turned to Colonel Brandon 'I am glad we have bumped into one another Colonel, for I have some business to put towards you. That is if I can spare you from your darling wife for an hour or two.' Both the Colonel and Marianne smiled; despite his wife's forgivings' Mr Palmer certainly more than made up for it.

Christopher turned to Marianne; 'You do not mind me taking up with Mr Palmer for an hour or so?'

'Two at the very most, my good lady.' Mr Palmer added.

No, not at all, why should I. I can brave Mrs Tattler's on my own. I shall surprise you with my choice of fabrics and hope they meet your approval.'

'I have every faith in you', Brandon replied.

'Oh well, I feel I should accompany Mrs Brandon then, as I am clearly not wanted by Mr Palmer.' Came the squeaky sound of Mrs Palmer's voice.

The men then bowed and left Marianne alone with Mrs Palmer and her young son, who, it was clear to see, a slight handful.

Inside the Mrs Tattler's Marianne observed all the reams of green satin there was on offer, yet none she felt satisfied her taste. Mrs Palmer had found another victim in Mrs Tattler and a sting of customers to annoy and indulge in some light hearted gossip.

Marianne wandered round the shop and settled at the back viewing a handful of sage green heavy satin that had a pearlescent blue thread running through it in vertical strips. It would be perfect for the window and frame it beautifully, she thought. Yes she would have this material. She took the ream of fabric but stopped and though a moment. With Mrs Tattler otherwise engaged she dared not approach for fear of being caught off guard in another one of Mrs Palmer's conversations. Perhaps she should return later with Robert and he could view the fabric for himself. Yes that would be a perfect idea.

'Now', she thought, 'how to get out of this place without having to stand another humiliating remake from Mrs Palmer.' She looked around the back of the shop and caught sight of a door. 'It surly must lead off behind the meat market,' she thought. If she got out now there would be little chance in Charlotte following her, for she was deep in conversation about the recently widowed Mr Jaffers and his live in lodger.

She pushed at the door and it jarred half open. Squeezing herself though the tiny gap she left the shop. She went along the alley that fell between Mrs Tattler's dress maker's and Mr Hornstone's cobbler's next door. A wave of relief passed through her, 'surly Mrs Palmer would not find her now.' The shade was pleasant change from the stuffy fabric shop.

She came to the road than ran behind the market. It had just turned midday and out of the shadows the sun was blazing, she felt the heat hit her immediately. Looking up the glare of the sun blinded her so she placed her bonnet, which she had been carrying, upon her head. She began to walk whilst fastening the ribbon tight.

Suddenly she stumbled and fell forward. Hitting the ground hard. She felt her elbows rattle and shudder with pain and tears rose to her eyes. A man called out to her, and she looked up. Rising to her feet, she rubbed furiously at her arms.

Again the man called, 'you al' rite ma'm'. She turned round and looked over to where the voice had come from. There she saw a man trying to restrain a young girl. He grabbed her hands and held them tightly. It was then Marianne saw the purse. Her purse. The man called, 'Stealing from you ma'm, a got 'er tho'.

The young girl pulled furiously but the man had her hand now tightly locked behind her back. He grabbed at the purse and it dropped to the floor. 'Al get 'elp if you's wanting ma'm?' Marianne stared at the two of them. The girl had long raven coloured hair that was flying about her face so that she could not see her features. She noticed that her skirts were laden with filth and were torn and ragged.

Suddenly she heard Mrs Palmer's voice from behind her and it brought her too. Mrs Brandon…Oh, Mrs Brandon, are you well? Mrs Brandon?' The girl suddenly stopped wrestling with the man and looked up. She stared long and hard into Marianne's face. Likewise Marianne stared back and for a brief moment felt she recognised her. Suddenly she jerked and with one quick she was freed from the man's hands and she ran down the road. She was gone.


End file.
